I need light. Maybe I should run back upstairs, find a flashlight. That would be the logical thing to do. But I know if I go back upstairs, no way in hell I’m coming back down into this dungeon. Not even for Sam. I swear to Christ I won’t be able to do it.
That’s when I recall Robyn’s cigarettes. Rather, not her cigarettes, but her Bic lighter. I dig inside my jean’s pocket, pull it out. My hand shaking, I thumb the lighter and produce a flame, its orange glow flickering off the far stone wall. The glow also reflects off something else. Something that brings tears to my eyes and sucks all the air from my lungs.
“Sam,” I say. “My God in heaven, what has he done to you?”
